Please refer to https://www.luogu.com.cn/article/a3qbh1bl for the complete Chinese version.

Introduction

The sound of keyboard taps is now as sparse as autumn rain, a sign that it's all coming to an end. I stared blankly at the lines of code I had written. Those characters were once like lively little spirits, full of possibilities — but now they're trapped on the screen, lifeless. My thoughts feel stuck in an endless loop. Every time I try to trace back, I end up at the same mistake, but it's too blurry to really catch. It doesn’t feel like a heroic failure — more like a slow, quiet defeat. I can almost see the test cases I couldn’t pass, like ghosts floating through the code, laughing at me.

I thought coding could build a bridge to the stars. But in the end, I couldn’t even cross a simple line. When the exam proctor announced the end, all the noise in the world went silent. I didn’t feel the relief I expected — instead, a huge emptiness rushed in from all sides. It was like a carefully prepared party that ended before any guests arrived.

This is already my third time taking this exam. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve walked out of this computer lab. It used to feel like home — where my dreams began. Time slipped quietly through my fingers as I typed. Three years should be enough to grow from a beginner into a skilled coder. But I feel stuck in an endless cycle — every fall, I come back to this familiar place, face new problems, and go through the same journey from hope to disappointment.

I can’t accept it — I can’t accept that three precious years of my youth were swallowed by the same goal with nothing in return. And I really can’t accept that even though I gave it my all, I always fell just a little short. When the proctor announced the end, what I heard was the echo of my own fight against fate — faint, but not yet gone.